“OhLord. So good.” She dug her nails into his side, trying to pull him closer.
He bent forward, pushing her leg toward her chest and opening her up to take him even deeper, eliciting a gasp from her. “You okay, Willowtree?” He pulled nearly all the way out before sliding inside, a slow glide of skin on skin, the tight fist of her pussy nearly driving him out of his goddamn mind.
“Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he promised, meaning it more than she could know. He was never, ever going to stop with her. Not again. He’d made that mistake once, and it would haunt him for the rest of his life, even if she did take him back for good. And, just like his brother had pointed out to him, he’d spend every day for as long as he was breathing trying to make it up to her. Proving his love. Because it was real and true, and he wanted her to feel it. To knowit. To never, ever doubt it.
“Finn—” She cut off on a moan, her eyelids fluttering closed as she pulsed an erratic beat around his cock. “I’m gonna…”
“Come all over me, I know.” He hummed low in his throat and kept up his rhythm, making sure he grazed her clit with every deep thrust. Making sure to keep her on edge, push her right where she needed to go. “You’re gonna strangle my cock, aren’t you?”
She gasped and opened her eyes just as her pussy tightened around him, staring straight at him while she started to come. Dropping her leg from his shoulder to hook over his elbow, she pulled him closer, fusing their mouths together as she reached her climax.
It didn’t take but three more thrusts into her pulsing heat before he pushed deep and spilled inside her, her name moaned between them as they kissed through it all. His heart full to bursting.
Later, they faced each other, Finn in his jeans and Willow wearing nothing but his shirt. Doing a damn good job of driving him crazy. She sat with her legs crisscrossed, which meant if he looked—which he was trying hard not to—he’d see all that gorgeous pink heaven between her legs. But if he went down that path, he’d be fucking her on the floor of the tree house again, and he’d be no better than his nineteen-year-old self.
He was desperately trying to be better than his nineteen-year-old self.
“I’m going to start to think this is the only thing you can make.” Willow bit into the peanut butter and banana sandwich he’d brought. It didn’t exactly pair with her favorite red or the candy bar—also her favorite—that was waiting for dessert, but this wasn’t about an exquisite culinary experience. It was about showing Willow he knew her—then and now. He listened when she spoke, and he remembered everything about her.
He smiled over the rim of his wine glass. “I better rectify that soon, then. Name the day, Willowtree, and I’ll cook you a three-course meal.”
“Will one of those courses be these sandwiches?” She held up the sandwich in question, her brow cocked.
“I see the skepticism written all over your beautiful face, sweetness. You wound me.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound that filled up the intimate space. “Sorry, I don’t mean to tease. It’s just hard.”
He raised a brow, because, yeah, he was definitely hard. Had been even though it’d been less than half an hour since he’d come inside her.
She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “I have no doubtyou’rehard. Honestly, are you ever not?”
“When you’re around? No.”
“What Imeantwas it’s hard picturing you, wearing an apron and flittin’ around the kitchen.”
“I do notflit. I stomp around like a manly man.” Finn finished off his sandwich as Willow laughed. “And if you want to know about the apron, you’ll just have to accept my invitation.”
The statement was innocent enough, but it hung between them, weighted. By the look on Willow’s face, she realized exactly what he was asking. Her inviting him here was an olive branch. That she’d share this with him again after what’d happened last time meant more than he could articulate. He just hoped it was a step toward what he wanted with her: permanence and public declarations.
“I…” Willow averted her eyes as she took a sip of wine, and his heart dropped. She wasn’t going to accept, and Finn would have to decide if he was okay with that. If he could live with taking whatever small bit she could give, whenever she could give it.
The answer, of course, was an unequivocal yes. Without doubt, he’d take whatever she was willing to give him.
“Okay.” Her soft voice filtered into the space between them, and Finn jerked his head up, snapping his eyes to hers. She was already staring at him, looking gorgeous as hell, even more stunning now that she’d basically said yes. Yes, to him. Yes, to them.
Unable to hold back anymore, he shoved everything between them aside, slid his hand around her neck, and brought her face to his, claiming her mouth in a kiss.
“I won’t let you down,” he said when they finally pulled apart. He meant more than just the meal—he only hoped she realized it.
She trailed her hand down from his neck to his chest, tracing the rough sketch of a map and the coordinates that just happened to be this exact location. “Will you tell me about these?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything?” She dropped her fingers to the willow tree on his side. “It’s weird, feeling like I still know you so well but having this gaping hole in time where I know nothing.”
His chest ached, regret over costing them so much time nearly consuming him. “I know what you mean.”
